He Wore Green Silk
by Roslyn Drycof
Summary: 'A soft tune played from an old phonograph in the corner. The scent of a women's perfume wafted through the air. Green silk rustled as bare feet gracefully danced in time to the music.' Harry comes upon something he had never expected, and it strikes a chord in him. HPDM slash. Non-explicit cross dressing. Minor character tragedy. EWE. Oneshot.


A soft tune played from an old phonograph in the corner. The scent of a women's perfume wafted through the air. Green silk rustled as bare feet gracefully danced in time to the music.

A young man slowly spun in a circle in front of the mirror, his long blond hair sliding over his slim shoulders. A gentle smile curved his subtly reddened lips, his kohl-lined eyes shining silvery in the sunlight that streamed through the long windows on the east wall. He was beautiful in an innocent sort of way.

It was like life hadn't yet managed to touch him, to tarnish his carefree spirit.

It should have been an obscene sight, a lanky boy in late adolescence wearing a witch's silk robes and dancing by himself in an empty room.

It wasn't.

It was beautiful.

* * *

Harry Potter stood in the shadows of the doorway to the Room of Requirement, his eyes wide in shock as he beheld a sight he would never have dreamed of in his wildest imaginings. His wand held loosely in his fingers, he stared at Draco Malfoy as he'd never seen him before.

It wasn't the delicate women's robes.

It wasn't the subtle makeup he could see on his pointed features.

It was the happiness radiating from every pore.

Oh, he'd seen the Slytherin boy gleeful when he'd succeeded in a nasty prank, and he'd seen him laughing at his own terrible jokes before, but this? This soft happiness that seemed as if it lit him up from within? No. He'd never seen this before. Not the soft light in his silver eyes before, nor the gentle curve to his lips.

It was mesmerizing.

He knew he should either leave or make himself known, but he couldn't. That happiness, he wanted to behold it forever. He knew it was ridiculous, but when had he last seen something so beautiful? So wonderfully innocent and carefree and…and…untouched. Yes, untouched. That was the word he was looking for.

Standing here, watching the slender heir to the Malfoy fortune smile into the mirror, his long limbs moving gracefully to the gentle music, Harry could almost forget that there had been a war not three months past. And wouldn't that be wonderful, to not remember the war? The final battle? The blood and death and the fact that Harry had died and come back and no one, not even Ron or Hermione, knew that because really how could he burden them with that when Fred was dead and Lupin and Tonks and Dumbledore and Snape were dead and they weren't ever coming back?!

He must've made a noise, because Malfoy was suddenly facing him, horror in his beautiful eyes and his wand outstretched in his trembling hand. "P-Potter?"

Harry was transported back to another time Malfoy had faced him like this, the same horror on his aristocratic features. This time, though, he didn't raise his wand to defend himself. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, not when that last time had ended up with blood on his hands.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged, tucking his wand into his pocket and taking a few steps into the room.

Malfoy's hand shook harder. "Get out!"

Harry slowly shook his head. "I can't do that."

"You have no right barging in here! Get out and don't tell…don't…" Draco's voice went from shouting to a desperate whisper by the end of his words.

Harry took a few more steps into the room, until he was feet away from the other boy. "You miss her, don't you?"

Silver eyes flickered, but the fear didn't lessen. It was joined by confusion. The wand stayed pointed at him.

"I saw her wear that robe, you know. Picking you up at King's Cross our fourth year." A few more steps.

Surprise now joined the fear and confusion. "How do you remember that?"

Harry shrugged half-heartedly. "I remember a lot that you'd be surprised about."

Malfoy had been slowly backing up as Harry advanced, and now his back was pressed to the mirror. He snorted, the sound conveying his disbelief.

A smile suddenly curved Harry's lips, and he raised his eyebrow at the other boy. "This song played in the music box you got her fifth year for the hols. The necklace you're wearing, she never took off. The scent of jasmine and violets with just a hint of oranges? Her perfume."

Malfoy's wand was now pointing uselessly at the floor. His fear was nearly gone, the surprise having beat it back. "How do you know all that, Potter?!"

Harry ran a hand haphazardly through his hair as he thought how best to answer him. How did he know all that about his nemesis' mum? How did he know all that he did about her, and the relationship she'd had with her only son? "She loved you."

It wasn't eloquent, and it didn't seem to lessen Malfoy's confusion. Harry frowned, casting his wits about for a better answer. "Your dad's a right bastard, but your mum…she wasn't. She was gentle and kind and strong and she made me think how my mum might've been like her."

At his words, Malfoy's wand clattered to the floor, grief twisting his face. Harry could've hit himself. She'd died not a month before, throwing herself in the way of a deadly curse meant for her son that a grief-stricken witch had cast in Diagon Alley whilst they were shopping for school supplies.

"I'm sorry…I didn't meant to –"

Malfoy threw up his hand to interrupt the apology. "Stop. You're right, you know. Merlin, I can't believe I just said that."

There was a note of defeat in his voice, and it only deepened as the blond continued, "Are you going to tell?"

Harry shook his head violently. "No!"

Malfoy's brow furrowed and he whirled around to fact the mirror. His eyes looking at Harry through the mirror, he spread his arms and sneered, "Why not? You should be overjoyed to have caught your dreaded rival dressed in his dead mum's clothes!"

He should have been, he was right. But how could he? Malfoy looked so damned beautiful, and Harry couldn't forget that look of happiness that he'd had earlier either. How could he ruin that?

"You look too beautiful." The words just slipped out.

Harry bit his lip, hard. Here was the ammunition Malfoy needed to turn the tables and make Harry into the laughable one. Who in their right mind, upon seeing another boy dressed in women's clothing, calls him beautiful? Ron would've been rolling on the floor laughing! Hermione would've been looking at him with pity.

A strange glint entered the Slytherin's eyes, and Harry bit his lip even harder.

"You think a guy in women's robes is beautiful?" Malfoy asked, derisively.

Harry shook his head firmly. "No."

"Then what, Potter? You can't just say you're not going to tell and then say I'm beautiful and then go and fucking say no!"

It was dawning on Harry that Malfoy wasn't turning the tables on him, and that maybe he was just confused. He stopped worrying his bottom lip and took a few final steps closer to the blond-haired boy until his front was nearly pressed to the other's back. Malfoy froze.

Pressing his hands to the mirror on either side of Malfoy's head, Harry leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "I don't think a guy in women's robes is beautiful. I think Draco Malfoy in his mother's favorite robes is beautiful."

"You're nutters," Malfoy whispered, his eyes falling shut.

Harry inched his head closer to Malfoy's ear until he could see his breath causing stray strands of silken blond hair to flutter. "Says the one of us his mum's robes."

Malfoy snorted, his eyes flickering open. Humor danced in the silver depths. "Exactly. I'm in the robes, and you're the one that's getting his rocks off by it."

"And how would you know if I'm getting my rocks off?" Harry whispered, his voice deepening in a rasp.

The Slytherin's answer was to press back against Harry, gyrating his hips slightly. Harry gasped at the friction, his body instantly hardening.

It was a surprise, and yet it wasn't.

"I knew it," Malfoy breathed, rolling his hips again.

Harry groaned and moved his hips to counteract Malfoy's movements. "Fuck you."

A hoarse laugh was his response, and another rolling movement.

"I knew weasel-bint wasn't doing it for you." Malfoy was smirking. Harry didn't have to look at him to know that. He groaned again, and nuzzled the crook of Malfoy's neck. "Fuck you."

It was a repetition, and it was a sign of how turned on Harry was already. He knew he should be reprimanding Malfoy for calling Ginny a bint, but it was the honest to Merlin truth that Ginny hadn't fired him up like this in well over a year. Oh she'd tried, and he'd tried, but he'd been resigning himself to a life without passion for months now.

No more, though. Not when he had a spitfire blond making little gasping noises as their hips continued to move together. Not when he lowered his right hand to slip through the folds of Malfoy's robe to palm the hardness that had Harry's mouth watering as he saw its outline in Malfoy's reflection. Not when Malfoy's response was to whirl around and grab Harry's hips and pull him against him so that Harry could feel their member's touching through their layers of clothing.

"Fuck me." Harry's voice was strangled as he let out the curse, shuddering as the friction of the silk covering Malfoy's erection against his own denim-covered erection.

Malfoy's lips were suddenly on his, his tongue reaching out to tangle insistently with Harry's. Harry's next curse never made it past his lips as his thoughts scattered, instead coming out as a rasping moan that made Malfoy somehow press even closer.

"How about we fuck me?" the blond murmured after a few minutes of brain-melting, blood inflaming kisses.

Harry's mind overloaded and shut down, and instead of answering, he ground his hips furiously until Malfoy was gasping and groaning and oh Merlin the flush high on his cheekbones was so fucking sexy…

* * *

**A/N**: Don't ask me where this came from. I'm not into cross-dressing fics, and I don't see Draco as the cross-dressing type either, but I just had this image of him mourning his mum if she died, and this was how he would do it so that he could feel close to her. I also thought that Harry, who misses the mum he never knew, could see this for what it is, that connection to someone who loved him so much that she died for him...

I know there are multiple stories I could be updating, but I just had to get this out of my system. Hopefully it means that I'll be able to focus on getting an update on something else.

I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot!

Please review! Thank you.


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